[If Peter was going to go, death by orgasm sounded a lot better than death by disintegration because a purple loser alien jerkface snapped his fingers. When she didn't seem mad about that snap of his hips, when she seemed to not only be okay with it, but to move with him, he did it again. And again. Not harder, but faster, his teeth nipping at her throat as he let out a moan that might have been her name. Probably was. Likely mingled in with something his aunt would smack him for saying.]
He can't help it. Aliens are the best. Rah Rah, Sis Boom Starfire.
Best. You're the best.